“What is your business?” “I'm--I'm an actor.” “Where do you play?” “On the North Side.” “What can you earn?” “Well, the three of us--we are the three Le Ducs, you know--my wife and I, and Elmer, can get sixty a week for our turn.” “You don't mean to say you have a son old enough to play with you?” “Oh, no, no--we only call him Elmer Le Duc. We haven't been married so long as that. But-----” However, this was not business, and he checked the confidence that was never far from the end of his tongue nowadays. “How long have you been on the stage?” “Nearly three years.” “What did you do before that?” “I was at college.” “What college?” “Here, in Evanston.” “So?” They were now standing in front of the wide grounds of G. Hyde Bigelow. Peeping out from its screen of trees, far back behind the spacious lawn, could be seen the granite turrets of Mr. Bigelow's new house. The owner turned toward them as he reflected. “I will tell you what you do, Mr.--Mr. --------” “Le Duc.” “Mr. Le Duc. You come to my office to-morrow at eleven. I think that by that time I will have a proposition that will interest you. Meantime, suppose we let this matter stand just where it is now. Is that satisfactory?” “Why--certainly; perfectly so.” “Very well, I shall look for you to-morrow at eleven. Good-night.” “Maybe I had better leave one of my cards with you, sir.” “Very well. Good-night.” “Good-night.” Mr. Bigelow turned into the grounds and disappeared among the trees, and Apples, bubbling with self-congratulations, hurried over to the trolley line. ***** Margaret was tired to-night. She was glad to be at home; and she threw herself on the library couch to rest for an hour while she awaited the final report of the day's labours. For George had been released from jail, thanks to the benevolence of the judge--himself a suburbanite--and to the clearness of the facts. It had called for very little effort on the part of Mr. Babcock, who had taken the case on his own shoulders, to make plain that George had been merely the cat's-paw of a gang of roughs. And now Mrs. Bigelow had promised Mr. Babcock that she would take in the boy and give him work about the house; so that apparently he was at last to have a start. At length Mr. Babcock himself came in. He was almost jaunty this evening; and his voice was pitched higher than usual. “How do you do, Miss Davies?” he exclaimed. “Here I am with my report.” “You brought him out, did you?” “Yes. Mrs. Bigelow has him and promises to take the best of care of him. He seems a likely boy--unfortunate he wasn't better brought up. But of course he may take a brace--such things have happened.” “You know I have faith in George,” said Margaret warmly.